Gemotions

He sat frozen, the leather of the bench cold against his skin. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, tracing a slow, deliberate path. Daniel closed his eyes, willing himself to wake up from this nightmare. He could almost feel the familiar sting of chlorine in his eyes, the burn in his lungs. This wasn't real. His name, conspicuously absent from the roster posted on the wall, seemed to burn itself into his memory. He fought back the urge to scream, to lash out, to somehow reverse the irreversible.